


Sometimes

by bakedgoldfish



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-22
Updated: 2003-08-22
Packaged: 2019-05-15 06:03:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakedgoldfish/pseuds/bakedgoldfish
Summary: Dream, lonesome soldier.





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Sometimes**

**by:** Baked Goldfish

**Character(s):** Leo  
**Rating:** CHILD  
**Disclaimer:** I'm not making money here, they're not mine, the summary comes from "Soldier In The Rain," sung by Ella Fitzgerald, please don't sue, thanks.  
**Summary:** Dream, lonesome soldier.  
**Spoiler:** None, but it supposedly takes place at the end of second season.  


Sometimes, he dreams. 

Sometimes, he dreams, when his head hits the pillow before midnight (and it's not too often that his head even hits the pillow--usually, these days, he sleeps on the couch in his office), but sometimes, he dreams, when his head hits the pillow before midnight, in such a way that he can remember his dreams when he wakes up in the morning. 

Sometimes, he dreams of his wife, who left him to be alone because they were already too much alone. Other times, he dreams of his father, and his father's dreams for him; he makes up his father's dreams, because they did not know each other long enough or sober enough for him to know the actualities. Ever so often, he'll dream of those nights, long ago, when he and his best friend would stay up til all hours of the morning, playing chess and talking about how they would one day fix all that was wrong in the world. 

Sometimes, he dreams those dreams, wakes up, and wishes those dreams were current reality. 

Sometimes, he dreams dreams that aren't worth remembering, but he remembers them anyway. There are dreams he dreams that aren't dreams, but, rather, reality recalled in cold, harsh light. Dreams of cramped cockpits, broken emergency radios, gunfire and cool Virginia nights that would be nightmares if they weren't so mired in truth. Whenever he has these dreams, he wakes up, startled, wondering why he can't have more dreams of chess games and less dreams of being held to the ground by men in dark suits. 

Sometimes, he dreams of his daughter. He remembers distinctly, in the span of a few seconds, her entire life. Once in a while, he dreams that he wants to throttle a certain young speechwriter for being interested in his daughter, wakes up, and realizes that it wasn't really a dream. And, then, once in a while, he dreams that his daughter can stand strongly on her own, wakes up, and realizes that that wasn't really a dream, either. 

Sometimes, he dreams of his children who are not related to him by blood, but who he loves nonetheless. He wonders if they know that they are his sons and daughters. He wonders if they look up to him like a father. Then he remembers what they would do for him, and he knows they do. Every so often, he dreams of their mistakes. He chastises them, when they make those mistakes, but he always forgives them. This, he knows, lets them know that he does not hate them, no matter what it may seem at the time. Those dreams do not anger him; instead, they endear his children to him even more. 

Sometimes, he dreams of the darkness looming on the horizon for his friend, his president, his brother. He knows, inside, that that same darkness threatens them all in the administration, but he worries most about the man in the office next door. He worries equally for that man's wife and daughters, because they are a part of his second family. He worries for his own child, and he worries for his children, because they've already been through so damn much. 

Sometimes, he dreams, however, that everything will be all right. He wakes up from those dreams refreshed and strong enough to fight another day. Even though he is not one to sit quietly in a corner and analyze his dreams, he knows that the good dreams and good realities outweigh the bad ones, and he is able to move forward. He gets out of bed, prepares for the day, and does not share his dreams with anyone. When his days are long, which they frequently are now, he does not go to bed, but instead takes naps on the couch in his office. His children and brother look out for him, though, and they make sure that he goes home at least twice a week (and his week is seven days, not five or six). Sometimes, it's a covert operation on their part, and sometimes they simply tell him to go home. Sometimes, it's a compromise, where he tells them he'll be home by two in the morning, and sometimes he's coaxed out of the office before nine-thirty. Sometimes, his head hits the pillow before midnight. 

Sometimes, he dreams. 

-end- 


End file.
